


Going to Prom with Undyne

by morefishplease



Series: Comfy Fish Stories [58]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Cute, F/M, High School, POV Second Person, Prom, Shyness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 16:11:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12172308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morefishplease/pseuds/morefishplease
Summary: What it says in the title. Due to having originally been written and posted for a different site most of my stories' titles are just descriptions of the story, and I'm too lazy to make up meaningful titles for everything.





	Going to Prom with Undyne

O those teenage heady years have got you down, kid, don’t they, don’t they? I can tell, from your eyes grin hair chin, all the things weep and sag and it’s not just the schoolday tiredness getting to you, it’s something else, something deeper, existential, heartaching you into sweet oblivion every night with a flash of soft-white salmony fins and blue flesh imagined more than seen, huh? You’ve caught glances, haven’t you? You’ve snuck a peek down her shirt, you saucy, saucy devil, that one time she was doing up her shoes out there on the track and you were standing there and the heavens smiled on you for one brief moment and she had not yet bloomed into awkward sort-of-womanhood, and those tiny buds drove you to many erections ere long,  eh, eh? I know how it goes it goes it goes, you know, there’s no need to conceal things from me. We all can see you salivate when you spot her, you can tell her from far off just by  her walk, the way she struts, sort of, playing at confidence even though she’s still the same gawky teenage girl she’s always been, still long-limbed and ungainly, like a newborn fawn, the same sort of precious clumsiness that you want to clutch and hold and protect even though she’d never let you, not on her life, you’re not cool enough. That doesn’t stop you from conjuring her up in your dreams, though, long and skinny and lithe, and oh, boy, the things you get up to - ! She would blush and freak and call you perv and get a tiny, tiny bit wet if she knew. If she knew what myriads of eyes were on her, creeping over her, if she knew what you (and others) would do to her if there was a slim shot at no repercussions – why, she’d never go outside again. As it is though you are satisfied you snatch peeks out of thin air, going across the bridge to lunch when she’s coming the opposite way. When her golden eyes (same color as honey or stars or moonshine, as you imagine moonshine might look) meet yours she curls her lip, sneers at you.

“What are you looking at, punk?” she growls, slams you with her shoulder, laughs as you stumble, and then she is gone leaving nothing but a strong smell of sharp and sweet in her wake and a great jutting rift through your mind as you struggle and struggle to cram it all in, to retain every last memory to replay at night, when you’re bored, any time at all. Undyne is the name on your lips, the sway to your hips, the thrust into your hand at night and the first face you see in drowsy fog days when you wake to the light. Undyne, Undyne, could she ever not sound as sweet as when she sneers and laughs and leaves lingering glances, watching your stumble, your practiced recovery? Oh, boy, you’ve got it bad!

 

▪ ▪ ▪

 

In fair Freemont High where we lay our scene, your stomach is bubbling as you walk back from lunch. Prom’s next week and you haven’t a date, you’re too shy to ask anyone and all the girls you know are taken already. The curse of waiting too late. Perhaps you’ll stay home, play video games. Anime maybe? You’ve got more episodes of Golden Boy to finish. Taken before its time, you tell yourself. Can’t believe it was cancelled. You walk down the long second-floor corridor toward your locker, ears still ringing from the sharp bell at the end of the day. There is a roll in your gait for it’s Friday and there’s nothing to do all weekend, no homework, no nothing. You want to go down to the park, you want to go skate, you want to call up your friends and run down by the train tracks and fish or something, that’s what kids do, right? You want to –

“- can’t believe I don’t have a date,” a familiar voice says, one halfway between a growl and a mumble, like the person attached to it hasn’t quite figured out which way they want to go yet. You glance over.

“It’s because everyone’s afraid of you,” suggests Stheno, Undyne’s snake-girl friend, and when your sluggish eyes finally sweep over the original complainant, already changed into her lacrosse jersey, doing her hair up in a bright-red spiky ponytail, fins awash in agitation, blue skin like the color of the sky –

“Hey,” you feel yourself saying and your body is not quite under your control and there is a feeling like a bucketful of bees in your belly – “Hey,” you say again, and Undyne turns, glances at you, curls her lip.

“What do you want?” she asks, and if this were any normal day you would quail and walk away, but your mouth opens and words spill out, brave words, foreign, frightening, fascinating words:

“You don’t have a date?”

 

▪ ▪ ▪

 

And here let me digress for a moment and jump into the bundle of nerves and haloed anxieties that is Undyne at this point in her young, fearless life, two-eyed and glowing and beautiful. Ah, feel those muscles, those young limber limbs, that quiver in her heart as she turns, looks at you, feels her stomach flip upside down. “Excuse me?” she says, automatically injecting the appropriate amount of shock and reproach into her voice, but she licks the inside of her teeth, crosses her legs, acts cool way cool say hey kid say hey be icy reeeelax she is muttering in her head.

“You don’t have a date to prom?” you ask her and she shakes her head, peers at you through half-shut lids. “Want to go with me?”

There it is, lightningstrike all in her veins and her blood’s on fire and she stutters, blinks, faint panic pouring through her golden eyes say hey say hey icy icy cool cool cool reeelax kid “Yeah, alright,” she tells you, surprising even herself and you smile at her and before she can stop herself she smiles back and you walk away and she watches you go, eyes hovering over your legs, narrow waist, v-taper, licks her lips and stomps down her nervousness and concern and agitation for she is, you must remember, she is only a teenage girl and she is just as stupid and worried and beautiful as any other teenage girl.

“Really?” Stheno asks her with an amused rattle and Undyne blushes a royal blue, elbows her in the ribs.

“Shut up.”

 

▪ ▪ ▪

 

Fast fast way way forward forward, prom nite and you’re picking her up in your beater and you’re too nervous to even drive straight, on the highway over as you’re merging on you almost get annihilated by an eighteen-wheeler and you pull over, let your shaky hands off the wheel close your eyes reeelax kid. Oh, the last week has been fun, hasn’t it? There was the toothpulling of getting Undyne to give you her phone number and then discovering that she’ll call and text you at very strange hours and expect you to answer right away, but oh the sudden thrill when she does! Worth it, worth it, forever worth it. The other toothpulling (yours) when she drags you off to go dressshopping with her cause Stheno’s busy and you spend four hours at the mall trying not to stare at her hips and thighs and (larger, fuller) breasts while telling her that each dress looks good, no really, you’re not just saying that, it really does. Wonder that you have teeth left but you’d do it all again a thousand times, wouldn’t you? We all know you would.

You manage to make it to her door, get out, ring the bell. She clambers down from her room, rushes down, answers the door. Her dress is red and flowing and elegant and her hair curled and held in place perfectly and shines like a thousand strands of starlight were woven into it and you stare at her and she stares at you and then she blushes, ruins it for herself because she’d told herself she was going to be ice cold kid say hey say hey reeelax but now she’s blushing and smiling at you in your dad’s old suit with your messy hair and your big dumb flower on your lapel and she says you look good and you say she looks good and she reaches out takes your hand and oh oh oh there are no hymns or halleluias for this moment, there are no blessings or sanctities that compare to this, the rest of your life is so downhill from here o my brother but the slide is so analgesic you will never notice –

You take her hand and she takes yours and her hand is warm and bright and clean and greatly daring you raise it to your lips and kiss it and Undyne giggles, claps her hand to her mouth, growls out real tough and mean “okay kid let’s get this over with” and you drive to prom.

 

▪ ▪ ▪

 

Fast forward but only a little bit this time and you are standing at the door holding hands staring at the crowd. They’ve already started grinding and it is nothing but a hot sweaty mess of bodies and you can feel Undyne trembling a little bit and you look over, she’s biting her lip, and she feels your eyes on her, looks back at you. Her eyes are bottomless, you think, as you feel yourself tip forward, pitch headfirst into them, and you could fall forever into those eyes eyes eyes eyes until you and Undyne both look back out at the crowd, tighten your hands around each other’s.

“This sucks,” you say in perfect simultaneity.

“I know a good ice cream joint,” you tell her and she nods.

“Let’s go before anyone sees us.”

It is only a quick duck out the back and Undyne has slipped her heels off, cursing at them, laughing at you, and you run back to your car, slip in, turn the radio on.

“Fuck that noise,” Undyne tells you. “Let’s roll, kid, fuck that, fuck that, fuck that.”

“Yeah, dude,” you say, not quite managing to match her enthusiasm, but hey ice cream is cool too.

 

▪ ▪ ▪

 

Fast forward again. You and Undyne sitting in a booth ess tee ayy arr eye enn gee at each other. First comes ice cream, then comes embarrassed, then comes a ride home in your fucked up Pontiac. Undyne broke the handle off the door trying to open it and laughed and laughed and you, mildly mortified, went around and opened it for her and she took your hand, stepped out of the car, burbled a watery thank you kind sir in a really terrible British accent. She’s eating pistachio ice cream and telling you about how the lacrosse team is so fucked in the finals, dude, you have no idea, and you are sitting there staring at her and taking a little nibble of your ice cream every now and then and trying to will that extrapersonal courage back into yourself that you felt when you asked her out in the first place because you keep telling yourself just do it kid just lean across and kiss her not on the lips but on the cheek just do it just do it just do it

“So, punk,” she says, rough grin broadening her lips ah! Those lips! Those fine fine teeth! She licks her lips, grins at you and you nearly faint. “Were you going to kiss me?”

“I – “ you begin but Undyne leans over, kisses you roughly and sharply and not very well at all but to you it is manna and nectar and ambrosia and you bite her lip a tiny bit and she bites yours back hungry and too hard but you don’t care you don’t care you are KISSING her you are kissing UNDYNE and when you break apart you both are breathing hard and she is blushing and you have never seen anything more beautiful.

“I win,” she tells you, but you wink at her, tell her that no, you’re the one who’s really won, and neither of you have any clue how true it is.

**Author's Note:**

> This one is cute. This was the first time I'd ever really experimented with the idea of what a younger Undyne might be like, and I really took the ball and ran with it. Of all the stories in this series, this one is probably the one that's closest to my usual writing style. I don't usually feel much flow when I write but when it hits it's always some of my best. Here it's most obvious in the first paragraph or so, and while it does need a little cleaning up I think it's still striking and just plain good.
> 
> That scene in the first paragraph is taken straight from my highschool years, when something very similar happened to me as I was walking across the bridge to the science building. That was a pivotal moment for me personally, I'd never really liked girls before then.
> 
> Stheno is the name of Medusa's sister. Stheno is actually one of the normal ones, it was only Medusa who was ugly, but if you gloss over that it's a nice name for a snake.
> 
> Overall the impression I try to give here is that this young Undyne is a little softer, a little more unsure of herself, still sort of figuring out who she's trying to be. It's a tough balance - at this point I'm basically just writing an OC afterall - but I think you can tell that it's still Undyne, just not quite as tough.
> 
> The 'you' in this story isn't supposed to be the same 'you' as the others. This was an issue that occurred to me while I was writing it but the community I was writing for was so small that I figured it didn't matter much and that it was more important to maintain a thematic link (through the use of the second person) to the rest of the stories.


End file.
